


You Know I Know

by madcowmama



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, NSFW, brittana fic, brittana u janitorial service wanksgiving 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madcowmama/pseuds/madcowmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana's parents won't be home tonight, so she has big plans for Brittany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know I Know

It hadn’t been all that difficult to get Brittany in the mood once the “bun in the oven” was debunked.  The house was all Santana’s tonight, she’d cleaned before school, and in the kitchen were the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.  Sweet Valley High was cued up; sweet lady kisses were in the bag.

When it came to Brittany, Artie didn’t stand a chance against Santana.  Nobody did.  Really all it took was sliding her pinkie into Britt’s after glee, and making that little duckie lips face.  She couldn’t resist that.  All’s fair, right?

So it was easy enough to get take-out on the way and dish it up once they were home. Put on the video, kick back, and eat. With their legs touching. Once they were finished with their food, she took their dishes to the kitchen. When she returned, Brittany’s eyes were on her.  That’d work.

Santana pulled out all the stops with the smile and slow blink.  Brittany smiled back.  Santana sat down beside her, taking her hand.  As soon as she’d settled back into watching the video, Santana raised Brittany’s hand to her mouth.  She kissed each finger.  She paused a moment, breathing across Brittany’s hand.  Brittany giggled and glanced over. Santana made the briefest of eye contact, pinked, and looked away.  Then she took Britt’s first two fingers into her mouth and listened for the sound her breath made.  Her tongue split the two and a tiny sound erupted from Brittany. She worked those fingers from knuckles to tips and back.

"Santana…" Brittany breathed.

Santana turned to face her, released the fingers, and set her lips to Brittany’s throat. It didn’t take any persuasion at all for Brittany to find somewhere to put those fingers. Now Santana’s breath caught. Her tongue began to explore the shell of Brittany’s ear. The inside of Brittany’s ear. The lobe of Brittany’s ear. That spot behind Brittany’s ear.

"Santana—" Brittany barely crooned.

One of Brittany’s fingers went exploring.  All at once, it slid inside. A lovely, beautiful, delicate gasp from Santana changed into a tiger cub’s growl. As Brittany continued finding all Santana’s variations in tone and pitch, she spoke softly into Santana’s ear.

"Santana, you know I know, right? That this is cheating."

Santana responded by tucking her hand up Brittany’s shirt. And Brittany curled her finger.  Brittany’s other hand moved Santana’s face to hers. Their lips met. And again.

Brittany, with the merest flick of her hip, flipped Santana on her back. Removing just what was in the way, Brittany slid in the second finger. Santana’s tone dropped. Brittany’s thumb got lonely, so it joined in up front.

Brittany just played her… like a flute… or a guitar… or a bass.  Santana’s back and hips made the full trip, all the way back, all the way forward, Brittany moving with her, contrapuntal. It was when she took out the second finger that Santana hit a high note of outrage for a moment, then, as Brittany circled the same finger, a little further back, Santana suddenly stopped.

"Britt? What are you doing?"

"Relax, Honey," was all Britt said.

She curled and uncurled the finger inside some more, as she continued slow, gentle, yet relentless circles with the other.  Santana couldn’t help herself; she arched into it. The finger slid a little way in, and the sensations everywhere tripled. Tripled.

What she couldn’t believe was that she hadn’t come yet. And then thought stopped.

She built up more steam, and Brittany stayed with her.  Talented legs, yes, but the hands, talented hands. Brittany eased in a little more and a little more, letting Santana’s rocking control it, a little.  How can such a little thing create so much… so much… sen… sa… tion.

God, her body. Her entire skin dancing with electricity, moving toward her toes, moving toward the top of her head, and back, wave after wave like the device in Frankenstein’s lab, crackling, humming.

And still not coming. Santana took hold of Brittany’s wrist, bringing her in deeper.

Brittany took the plunge. Brittany’s second finger lost inside, and not, and lost again. And again, and again. What’s that sound? Sirens? What’s that (oh god) what’s that sound? Keening? Singing? Santana locked both of Brittany’s fingers fully inside her as lightning (that was what she saw) shot out her skull. And then it just kept on happening. And again. What’s that sound? 

"Santana," Brittany giggled, "Honey, someone’s gonna call the police."

It took a while for Santana to open her eyes again. Brittany carefully removed first her thumb, causing little sparks to travel up Santana’s spine. She gave her a little rest then, because frankly, nothing else was going to give for a minute or two. Then Brittany pulled her first finger out nice and easy, shooting blue light through Santana’s eyes for a moment. And another rest.

"First, squeeze, okay?" Santana did as she was told. "Then relax."

Britt pulled out a little bit, and kept coaching her until it was all the way out. Santana’s eyes rolled back, and she let out a little bark. Brittany stretched out along the top of her, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her hair, the tip of her nose. Tiny mouse kisses on her lips. All pulling shivers out of all of her.

"Yes. I know you know," said Santana.


End file.
